


Just so you know

by tinyniel



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyniel/pseuds/tinyniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short and (hopefully) sweet. Chandler gives Kent a lift home after Mansell's wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just so you know

"Take 'im home, will you?"

Chandler is stopped in his tracks by Miles' voice. He was just about to escape, with the evening coming to a definite close, even by Mansell's own admittance. To be honest, Chandler would have left hours ago, tried to even, but Miles had grabbed him by the arm just in time, insisting that if he was ever going to stick an evening out, this was the one. Chandler had agreed, if somewhat reluctantly. He didn't supposed he'd be attending that many of his colleagues' weddings, it was only fair that he should stretch his limitations in this case. 

So he had stayed, long past the point where it stopped being interesting, out of a ridiculous sense of duty to a man who probably wouldn't have thought twice about him going. Mansell would neither have been surprised nor disappointed. 

Now, with people starting to filter reluctantly out, Chandler had been quick to take his chance. Just not quick enough. 

He turns to look in the direction of Miles' nod, not surprised to find that it's aimed at Kent. The young DC had been asleep not five minutes ago, and he's still sat at the table, looking a lot worse for wear and a fair bit lost. 

Chandler wants to refuse. He wants to go home, close the door behind him and leave this evening behind. His suit smells of beer (courtesy of a wobbly Mansell) and smoke, he's exhausted from all the drunken conversations he's had to endure from people too far gone to spot his polite attempts at ending them, and he's tired. He just wants to go home, however selfish that might be. 

"Of course." 

He thinks he manages to look like he means it. And part of him sort of does. Even if he does long to get home, he knows it's only fair of him. He has a car, Miles and Riley are both going in different directions, and Kent's street isn't that much of a detour. 

Miles claps him on the shoulder. "Good man. Night, boss."

"Good night, Miles."

His sergeant wanders off to find his wife, and Chandler turns to fetch Kent. As it turns out, he doesn't need to. The DC's on his way towards him, walking slowly in a clear (and failed) attempt to mask how drunk he still is. 

"Night, sir." Kent smiles at him, so sleepily that Chandler for a moment worries Kent's going to fall asleep standing there. 

"Can I give you a lift home?"

Kent waves an erratic hand at that. "No no, I'll be fine. I'll get a cab or something."

"No, I insist." Chandler offers him a smile. "You're not that far out of the way."

"Don't wanna inconvenience you, sir," Kent starts, and it's Chandler's turn to wave dismissively. 

"Please, it's no trouble."

"Alright then, let me just get my coat."

-

Neither of them say much during the drive, and Chandler finds that he's happy about that. Evenings like this tend to drain him, like there's some limit on his conversation and crowds like this one eat it up. Even in Kent's easy company he finds he can't seem to form a single sentence worthy of saying. So he focuses on driving, quietly thankful for Kent's silence. 

It stretches on for so long that Chandler's almost convinced himself that Kent's asleep, and it's a small miracle that he doesn't startle more than he does when-

"How long d'you reckon it'll last then?"

"Sorry?" 

Chandler throws a quick glance at Kent. The DC sits up a little, running a hand through the dark mess of curls. 

"Mansell. The marriage." Kent smothers a yawn. "Last one was 9 months, I think."

Chandler's vaguely aware, and knowing Mansell, he's not at all surprised. 

"Second time lucky?" he suggests, and Kent gives an amused huff. 

"Yeah, I don't think luck factors into it, sir."

Chandler allowed himself a small smile at that, and notices out of the corner of his eye that Kent does too. 

"You look better," he blurts out without thinking, suddenly thankful for just how dark his car is.

He can still see Kent's quizzical look through the darkness. 

"Just, you looked- before you weren't really-" 

He fumbles for the right words, but Kent seems to understand. 

"Yeah, a bit of sleep always helps," he offers. "My mates hate me for it. If I get too pissed, I nod off and wake back up sober." Chandler can see him smile. "Well, very nearly anyway."

Chandler smiles too. Kent's first attempt to get into the car didn't exactly give the impression of soberness. 

"D'you ever think that'll be you. Marriage I mean?"

Kent's question comes out of nowhere, taking him by complete surprise. Chandler can't help but swallow hard, and tries to buy himself some time by paying a ridiculous amount of attention to getting through the intersection at hand, despite the fact that it's deserted. 

It doesn't fool Kent, though. 

"Sorry, sir. Shouldn't have pried."

"No, no it's fine." 

It's not. 

"I don't. See myself getting married, I mean" Chandler tries for a smile. "Who would put up with me?"

"Just about anyone you asked."

Kent's reply is instant, and completely genuine. 

"I doubt it," Chandler huffs. "It might work, for a while, but in the long run ... I'm more trouble than it's worth."

He knows he's crossed a line the moment he says it, because Kent offers no reply this time. Chandler's rarely this candid, even with Miles. But there's something easy about the darkness of the car, the fact that Kent can't see how honest the statement is, and the hope that maybe the DC is still drunk enough that it'll be forgotten tomorrow.

The last few minutes of the drive are spent in silence again and Chandler half expects to have to wake Kent up when he stops outside the house. But just as he contemplates how best to do that, Kent speaks. 

"You're wrong, sir."

When Chandler doesn't reply, he goes on. 

"You're not unbearable, you know. Far from it. Granted, you have your moments, but we all do, don't we? They're just different kind of moments."

"Kent, what are you-"

"You shouldn't let it hold you back," Kent interrupts. "Your ... peculiarities, if we can call them that."

Chandler thinks it's something of an understatement, but he lets it pas.

"I know Miles bores you to tears with it. That you need something, someone to live for other than the job." 

Kent is talking to his hands, even if his words are addressed of Chandler, fidgeting as he always does when whatever he's saying feels slightly awkward to him. But there's a tone in his voice that suggests that these words need saying, that they've been a long time coming, and even if they feel intrusive, Chandler lets him speak.

"He's not wrong, you know," Kent continues. "It's nice to have an outlet. Something to take your mind off."

"What's yours?" Chandler can't help but ask. 

Kent cracks a small smile. "Computer games. Getting to focus on something insignificant for a change. If I fuck up, I can just restart from the last save."

"That would be helpful," Chandler agrees. 

"Look, I know I'm outta line here," Kent finally finds the courage to look up at him. "But I'm serious, sir. I'll accept any reason you have for not wanting a relationship, except the one you've just given me. Because we all have to "put up" with people in our lives. Doesn't mean we love them any less."

Chandler can't argue with that. His family might not be all that large, but it's big enough that he's familiar with the concept of loving people he can barely stand to be in the same room with. But that's family, it's different. You love them by default. 

He turns to smile at Kent, because he hasn't said anything for too long again, and he doesn't want the DC to misunderstand. Kent returns the smile, but it doesn't quite mask the fact that he's wary, that he's worried about having crossed a line again. 

"I still can't see anyone putting up with me, though."

He means it as a joke, but the change in Kent's face, the way the DC'S smile instantly falls away, tells him the attempt has failed spectacularly.

Chandler half expects another protest, another string of words that make perfect sense, another logical argument that really can't be protested, except for the block in Chandler's mind that's constantly there to remind him that every rule has an exception, and in this case he's the exception. 

But that's not what he gets at all. 

Kent's expression softens, almost bordering on pity, and before Chandler can register just what has happened, he feels the heat of Kent's palm against his cheek. 

Chandler's breath stutters to a halt, but he doesn't flinch away from the touch. Kent just keeps his hand still, touch light on Chandler's skin, thumb stroking absentmindedly. 

Chandler wants to say something, he really does, but he doesn't know how or what. The only thing he knows is that Kent's touch is warm and reassuring, that his own breath had become laboured all of a sudden, a struggle to keep even, and that somehow he knows what's coming, even if it was the furthest thing from his mind a second ago. 

The realisation doesn't stop the hitch in his breath when Kent leans in, doesn't stop the small squeak of surprise that slips out before it's silenced by the press of Kent's lips to Chandler's. 

It's too much to process all at once. The soft, tentative press of lips, the little moan Kent lets out a moment later when Chandler doesn't push him away. The way Kent's hand slides to the back of Chandler's neck, fingers playing with his hair, the way Chandler finds himself leaning in, wanting to be closer. Kent tastes like vodka, faintly, and something sweet that Chandler imagines must have had something to do with the alarming shade of orange some of the drinks sported. 

Not that he really knows why drink colours factor into this equation, because he should be much more concerned with the way his hand comes up to grip Kent's tie, not tugging, just looking for purchase, for something to ground him so he doesn't drown in the myriad of new sensations. 

It's all too much, and it's all he can do just to keep afloat. 

When Kent pulls away a moment later, Chandler tries to follow, before he catches himself and freezes in his tracks. Kent's already present smile widens a little a that, and he pulls Chandler closer to touch their foreheads together. 

Chandler can't find words, and he can't seem to move either. He's trusting Kent to do both, or they'll be stuck like this all night. 

When Kent does act, it's to pull away. Chandler doesn't so much let him as he doesn't know how to stop him. He's still trying to process what's just happened when Kent unbuckles his seat belt and opens the door. He's out the car before Chandler finds his voice.

"Kent-"

Kent bends to look through the still open door.

"G'night, sir. Thanks for the lift."

"Kent, what was- why-"

The DC huffs a little laugh, but it's soft, affectionate. 

"I'll see you Monday, sir."

Chandler watches him go, watches the door to the house click shut, watches as a light comes on behind one of the curtains. Watches until he realises this is borderline creepy. He fumbles with the ignition, suddenly desperate to get out of there. 

But before he can pull back into the empty lane, his phone beeps. Kent's name shines up at him, and Chandler sweeps a clumsy finger across the screen to get at the message. 

"Like I said; there are people who would be more than happy to "put up with you". Just so you know ..."


End file.
